


Captain America Doesn’t Fucking Swear, and Other Facts the History Books Need to Get Right

by joban_disaster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome Howling Commandos, BAMF Peggy Carter, BAMF Women, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Social Media, World War II, everyone's an asshole, historical correctness, nothing is holy, will the real Steve Rogers please stand up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joban_disaster/pseuds/joban_disaster
Summary: Bunk Lizard and Slack Rat go to Europe.





	1. the cast-iron bathtub and me

It seems like they’ve only returned for ten minutes before they’re stormed by cameras. “Captain Rogers!” howls a tiny man in a bowler hat. “We’ve come to show America the might of you and your merry men!” 

“His _what now_ ,” Barnes says flatly. 

“Your _Howling Commandos,_ the nation calls them!” the stranger carols, waving his hands emphatically as he bounces around Steve like a cockatiel. “The brave men fighting for liberty and justice for all!”

“Can the brave men fighting for liberty and justice for all get some fucking dinner first?” Morita mutters.

Colonel Philips barks, “Captain Rogers!” as he strides out of command. “Good, you’re back. Stop by medical, get your men some food, then report back. We have some—” and he shoots the fluttering man a look of intense derision, as if examining a small pet that wet a carpet— “ _guests_ who’ve requested the immediate attention of your unit.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says politely to Philips. “Get your asses into medical,” he says _much_ less politely to the Commandos.

“We’re _fine,_ Cap,” Falsworth complains. 

“Fuck you and your medical, I want _food,_ ”moans Dugan as they get shooed off, followed by a gaggle of men bearing brushes and mirrors and tubes that, the men note with trepidation, look a damn lot like the rationed lipsticks dames fought tooth and nail over back at home. “Even if it’s just goddamn Spam and eggs.”

Barnes pulls a face. “I’d rather get an enema than eat more Spam and eggs.”

“The fact that you just said that is… actually more horrifying than Spam and eggs,” Jonesy says in amazement. “I didn’t think that was _possible._ ” 

“I’m a man who makes my own rules,” Barnes sniffs haughtily. “Universality ain't got nothin’ on me.”

“Shut the fuck up and sit down, Barnes,” the head nurse, whose name is Susie-Ann but whom everyone calls Dolley, snaps. Her parade bark is better than Phillips', the Commandos have long-since concluded. 

Barnes _beams._ Because he’s a complete and utter masochist _,_ he _adores_ Dolley. “Sugartits!” 

Stone-faced, Dolley smacks him upside the head. “I’ll suffocate you in your sleep, see if I won’t. Sit down, idiots,” she raps out at the rest of the Commandos, “if you haven’t been stupid enough to get your goddamn legs blown away along with your common sense.”

“Your bedside manner gets better ‘n better every time, Nurse,” Dugan says. She narrows her eyes at him and he swallows and sits. 

The nurses flutter around them, sticking them with various medical devices Jonesy swears up and down they keep around just to abuse the Commandos. Dernier gets shrapnel dug out of his calf, fussing obnoxiously until Sabine, a nurse who joined up from the _résistance_ in Tours, curses him out in French, English, Dutch, Italian, Russian, Greek,  _and_ German in rapid succession. The men are collectively impressed enough they remain quiet for the rest of the examination.

Finally, Dolley kicks Falsworth in the foot. “You’re all free to go,” she throws them all a look of long-suffering contempt, “now, out of my tent.” 

“Medical, a breath of fresh air every time,” Morita sighs.

Barnes looks besotted. “I’m gonna marry that woman someday.”

“Go, go, go,” Jonesy hisses, shoving them all towards the mess hall. “Shut the hell up until we get rations, I _pray_ to _Christ_." 

“Even Christ got to have his rations before medical,” Falsworth mutters.

Jonesy bequeaths him a flat stare. “He _died_.”

“Yeah, _after getting fed._ That man had his priorities _right.”_

They bicker as they stumble into mess and nearly faceplant into their K-rations. Carter walks over as they eat. “Gentlemen.”

“Lady.” Barnes tips his imaginary hat. “Have a hankerin' for some delicious Spam and eggs this lovely afternoon?”

“Wouldn’t do to take food away from a growing boy,” she says sweetly. 

“What can we do for you, Agent?” Jonesy politely asks.

“I just wanted to let you know that Captain Rogers and his men are going to be giving interviews for the audience at home in about,” she checks an invisible watch, “two minutes. That's _you_ ," she says helpfully, "so, if you’re finished up, they’re ready for you at make-up.”

“ _Mmph_?” Dernier says loudly.

Morita buries his face in his hands like a man condemned. “Oh, no.”

Carter grins. “Oh, _yes._ ”

 

* * *

 

“These are very official interviews here, gentlemen,” Phillips barks, eyes narrowed, “and I expect you morons to aptly represent the dignity of the U.S. army in your answers. Can I trust you to do this one simple task?” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” they chorus obediently. 

“Good. Any questions?”

“Is my mascara smeared?” Dugan asks with _great_ earnestness.

“You look lovely, Dum Dum,” Barnes assures him with similar sobriety. “Very sleek, very cosmopolitan.”

Phillips looks like he wants to kill either them or himself and just hasn’t yet decided which. “Get out of my sight.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s it like, serving under a man as dedicated to his country as Captain America?” the director asks, brandishing a microphone under Falsworth's nose. There’s a beat of silence, then:

“He’s very big on liberty,” Falsworth answers with a winning smile. “Gives speeches about freedom every night before dinner.” 

Dugan nods very seriously. “Before bed, we all receive a kiss on the forehead and a personalized rendition of ‘America, the Beautiful. Full harmony.”

“He once lit a campfire using only the heat of his love for the American Dream,” offers Morita.

Dernier agrees, looking moved. “ _Ses larmes est rouge, blanche, et bleue._ "

“I once received a love letter from Captain Rogers via eagle,” Carter contributes.

“He thinks about national pride when he orgasms,” Barnes says. “His safeword is ‘justice.’" 

Steve gazes into the distance and looks very noble. “God bless America."


	2. belly cousins and eggs in your beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the original items donated by our generous patrons, the Smithsonian Museum has ruled inappropriate for the upcoming Captain America exhibit the following photographs.

_Item 1: Italy, 1944_

Sgt. James Barnes and Cpt. Steven Rogers doze, nude, in a pile of what appears to be stock vegetables. Both have large turnips placed strategically over their groins. In the background, SSR agent Margaret Carter and specialist Jacques Dernier exchange formal salutes.

 

_Item 2: France, early 1944_

Cpt. Steven Rogers, Sgt. James Barnes, and members of the French _résistance_ engage in what modern colloquialism refers to as a “wet t-shirt contest.” This archivist’s humble opinion places Cpt. Rogers as a clear audience favorite.

 

_Item 3: France, early 1944_

Specialists Gabe Jones, Jacques Dernier, and Jim Morita formally salute a "Bucky Bear" in sergeant’s stripes. Sgt. James Barnes, smirking widely, admonishes them from the left. 

 

_Item 4: Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris, early 1944_

The Howling Commandos and SSR agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter reenact a chapel marble  _pieta_  to their left _._ Specialist Timothy Dugan plays the role of Madonna; Lt. James Falsworth reclines upon his lap as the Christ post-mortem.

 

_Item 5: Geneva, Switzerland, 1944_

Sgt. James Barnes and Col. Chester Phillips, in full uniform, bend over a map. Sgt. Barnes’ back faces the camera. He wears a paper sign affixed to the back of his coat that reads, “Spank me harder and call me Missus Rogers.”

 

_Item 6: Italy, 1944_

Sgt. James Barnes poses for the camera with two anonymous women. He has lipstick stains in gradient colors over his forehead, nose, cheeks, and chin. Experts have agreed, due to the lighting within the photograph, he is likely wearing lipstick as well. In this archivist’s humble opinion, it is a very good look.

 

_Item 7: Italy, 1944_

SSR agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter shaves Cpt. Steven Rogers’ right leg. Cpt. Rogers wears the top half of the Captain America suit and holds a hand towel over his groin. Notably, the hand towel has the words “Made in America” embroidered in its upper right corner.

 

_Item 8: Italy, late 1944_

Cpt. Steven Rogers and Sgt. James Barnes stand at parade rest, both wearing white gowns and veils typical of wedding garments, as Col. Chester Phillips disciplines them in the command tent.  

 

_Item 9: Switzerland, 1944_

Sgt. James Barnes sweeps SSR agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter up in his arms as she raises a two-finger salute to a grinning Cpt. Steven Rogers. Expert opinion on the context of this photo remains varied.


	3. casting the last anchor and other occupational hazards

“Fuck HYDRA,” Dugan mutters, raising a flask of the moonshine Morita scrounged out of Buttfuck Nowhere _,_ France, and swigging with a dark expression. "I just wanna have a nice dinner with the lads without getting blown up."

Barnes makes grabby hands. “Gimme.”

“No,” Dugan shoots back, clutching the flask protectively to his chest. “I’m traumatized. I need it.”

“I was traumatized first,” Barnes mutters, pouting. 

Jonesy rubs his head soothingly. “Your trauma’s still valid, Sarge, don’t worry.”

It’s been a long day— a long month, really— of exploding HYDRA bases, cyanide capsules instead of info, no campfire and shit K-rations in pouring rain, and a distinct lack of anything resembling human contact. The isolation of rural France had almost broken the city boys; Morita’d shot a squirrel the day before and made stew, to Barnes’ and Steve’s profound horror.

(“It’s like eating a pigeon,” whispered Steve, expression of supreme unhappiness clear on his face, “meant to draw _outbursts of rage_ , not human consumption.”)

(“I miss street hot dogs,” Barnes’d moaned. “You didn’t know what the meat was, but at least you knew it was _civilized._ ”)

Dugan finally accedes to sharing his flask and the Commandos pass it around, smoking and staring moodily into the fire. It’s quiet and lovely despite the misty rain. “When we go home,” Falsworth mutters, “first thing I’m gonna do is take a bath and never get out.”

“With lavender soap,” Barnes says dreamily. When it gets him raised eyebrows all around, he rolls his eyes. “Three sisters. And, also, you gents wonder what the trick is to why the dames want me dancin’ with ‘em in the halls? It’s because I always smell _real fuckin’ good._ ”

“You smell like you died and then rolled in your own dead body,” Morita says. 

Barnes wrinkles his nose. "I shot a man in the dickyesterday, and that's  _still_ the grossest thing I've ever had put in my head. Thanks, Jimmy."

The field medic cackles, unrepentant, and the men chuckle as they settle in for the night. Falsworth and Jonesy bring out a deck of cards. Barnes plunks his head in Steve’s lap while Steve pulls out his sketchbook and doodles, bracing it on Barnes’ chest. Dernier hums and cleans his guns. Morita naps. It’s good.

It’s _very_ good, in fact, until HYDRA blows them up.

“Cocksucking sons of bitches!” Morita shrieks in outrage, shooting an agent in the face. “I was _dreaming!_ There were _three dames!_ We were _eating real food!”_

“How dare you strip that from him?” Jonesy shouts as he kicks another agent in the stomach. “He deserves this!”

“Let the man live!” hollers Barnes.

Steve looks like a proud father watching his children toddle off to school for the first time, at least until a HYDRA agent sucker-shoots him in the shoulder. The verse of expletives he lets out could wake the dead. Barnes cheers. “That’s my Brooklyn boy!”

It’s over quickly, the sheer indignance of exhausted Commandos overwhelming a contingent of guns and violent nationalism. They leave the sniper alive so they can have a chat.

“Hail HYDRA,” the man sneers as soon as they get near.

“Lord, you’re predictable,” Falsworth sighs.

“You,” the agent’s eyes narrow as they alight on Barnes. “Zola's bitch.”

“Excuse you,” Barnes says, affronted. “If anything, I am Captain America's bitch." 

Steve looks thrilled. The agent doesn’t seem sure how to answer that and settles for hissing, “When one head is cut off—”

Dernier kicks him in the head to knock him out and shrugs. " _Ennuyeuse._ "

“ _Fuck_ HYDRA,” Dugan says, and pees on the agent’s foot.


	4. dead nuts on your best friend's gun

They’ve been called into command for debriefing after their successful return from Geneva. Phillips seems to have other issues on his mind.

“I hear our Captain Rogers has problems with authority,” Phillips growls. “Our officers have expressed complaints about his unwillingness to follow direct orders in the field. Words such as, ‘attitude,’ ‘bullheadedness,’ and ‘stubborn ass’ have been thrown around.”

“Steve has plenty of respect for authority,” Barnes protests. “Agent Carter could kick Steve in the face and he’d say, ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ and ask for another.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Oh, wait, that actually happened,” Barnes says. “Silly me.”

There’s a longer silence. Dugan's turning purple. Falsworth's digging his nails into his own thigh so he doesn't burst out laughing.

Phillips stares at the Commandos for a moment longer before dropping his head into his hands. “I’m being punished.”

“So is Steve,” Barnes says reasonably. “You should try liking it, sir. More fun for everyone.”

Phillips points with a hand, other still covering his face. “Go to medical, Barnes.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” the men chorus, and troop over to medical.

“You’re such a fucking pain in the ass,” Falsworth says, swatting Barnes upside the head. “I can’t believe Phillips hasn’t had you court-martialed yet.”

“I swore to uphold the truth and nothing but the truth when I entered this great country’s army, and I’m a man of my word.” They push aside the tent flaps to medical and Barnes’ face lights up. “Sugartits!” he yells happily. “I’m home!”

“No, you’re not!” Dolley shrieks. “Leave!”

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Jonesy asks in all seriousness. “She’s going to punch you in the throat someday.”

“I know,” Barnes says, eyes dreamy, “it’s gonna be _awesome._ ”

Dugan and Dernier slowly inch away from him. "You and Steve are made for each other,"says Morita. "Don't get near me."


	5. the day the eagle shits

“Smile for the cameras, boys,” Carter snaps as she strides past. “You’re supposed to be friends.”

“We are friends,” Barnes laughs with slitted eyes. “Friends who leave their goddamn _wet_ _socks_ in each others’ goddamn _sleepin' bags._ ”

“They came off when I was asleep,” Steve tosses back, turning away so the cameras don’t see his glare, “because you were fucking _kicking me_ all night long.”

“You were tryin’ to crawl inside my damn lungs, that’s why,” Barnes hisses with a smile. “You have the personal space etiquette of a Komodo dragon.”

Steve beams and puts a crushing arm around Barnes’ shoulder. “I just try to match your intelligence level, that’s why. Only a reptile would have the idea to lead a march straight into a bog.”

“Fuck you, Steven,” bites out Barnes, chuckling, “if you actually _made plans_ instead of doodlin' on my damn socks, we’d get somewhere.”

Steve’s hand tightens as he cocks his head lightheartedly, Brooklyn vowels seeping through his carefully clipped tone. “Fuck you _, James Buchanan._ I only draw on ‘em 'cause you drop ‘em in my fuckin' lap every time we make camp.”

"I only drop 'em in your lap because I can't  _put 'em in my sleepin' bag_ ," James whisper-shouts with a delighted grin, "because some  _fuckin' asshole_  alreadygot it  _wet_ with his fuckin'  _feet!_ "

("Are they getting divorced?" Dugan wonders as the Commandos watch their commanding officers growl at each other while pretending to be absolutely, _fantastically_ fine.)

("Christ, I hope so," Morita groans. "If I have to hear one more goddamn argument about who did or didn't do the dishes in New York, I'm going to off myself, I swear to God.")

"Tell a joke!" the cameraman yells.

"Where do HYDRA suicide bombers go when they die?" Barnes says. "Everywhere!"

("Jesus Christ,"says Jonesy.)

"Jesus Christ," says Steve.

The cameraman pales. Barnes looks delighted with himself.

"That's a wrap, gentlemen," Phillips snaps from the command tent. "Give Captain Rogers' men their CO and NCO back. There's a war going on."

(Dugan nods sagely. "Sock War.")

("Sock War II," Falsworth corrects.)

"Shut-the-fuck-up War," Barnes bites out, stalking past them. "Get the fuck over here, Rogers. We're gonna work this out in your goddamn captain-sized bed. Stay the _shit_ away from my sleepin' bag. I mean it, don't get fuckin' _near_ it."

With wide eyes and a what's-a-guy-to-do shrug at the Commandos, Steve hurries after his sergeant. They watch Barnes fist a hand in Steve's tie and  _yank_ him inside the tent, after which Steve yelps in a way that makes them all feel  _profoundly_ unpatriotic to hear.

Dernier scowls. " _Les Américains. Pas de dignité_."

Carter puts a hand over her face. "I need a drink."

"I've needed a drink since 1929," Phillips says. "You all can fucking deal."


	6. g.i. jesus, queer icon

Dugan takes a long drag off his cigarette, lazily exhaling as he fixes the Commandos with a gimlet stare. “Worst firefight you've been caught in?”

Barnes grins. “I once saw a queen in full drag clock a police officer in the eye with her stiletto when the officer tried to billy-club her boyfriend." He sighs happily. “It was _glorious_.”

“What in God’s name were you doing there, Sarge?” The Commandos stare at him, eyes wide.

Barnes grins. “Avoiding the billy-club while Steve clocked the police officer in the eye with a stiletto, of course.”

Silence reigns, more terrified awe than anything else.

“A stiletto, Cap?” is all Falsworth can really get out.

Steve shrugs, red-cheeked. “All’s fair in love and war?”

“ _Glorious_ ,” Barnes purrs again, and curls his tongue behind his teeth.


	7. kinks include: jeeps, khaki, joe blow biographies

_During his legendary raid on the Luxembourg HYDRA base located in the medieval Vianden Castle, Captain Rogers would give a simple answer to a simple question that would go down as one of the most renowned quotations in American history, on par with “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” and “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall.”_

_When questioned by his men about the risk they ran combatting an enemy that outnumbered them twenty to one, Captain Rogers famously responded, “By the grace of God, the righteous will prevail.”_

* * *

 

“What the ever-lovin _'_ _shit,_ Steve!” Barnes, seething, looks like he wants to kick Steve in the face. “You can’t  _wave at your goddamn sniper!_ I am _hidden_ for a fuckin’ _reason!_ You're going to get me  _killed,_ you _absolute_ _ass!”_

“I’m sorry!” Steve protests. “I just wanted to thank my best guy for keepin' my six!”

“You can thank my _ass,_ ” Barnes shouts. “You know what you find when you look up ‘idiot’ in the dictionary?”

Steve winces. “A picture of me?”

“No,” snarls Barnes, “a definition of the word ‘idiot,’ _which you fuckin’ are!”_

“Not to break up this _crucial_ discussion for something of significantly less importance,” Falsworth says, “but how the fuck are we planning on getting out of this damn castle?”

“—if we were hypothetically surrounded by extremely pissed HYDRA agents on all sides,” Morita puts in. “Which we may or may not be.”

“Schrödinger’s HYDRA,” Jonesy deadpans. Barnes gives him finger guns.

“Surrounded?” says Steve.

“Like mice in a trap,” Morita answers cheerfully. “How do you advise we not die in the face of imminent attack by Nazi mad scientists?"

Steve smirks. “Dernier, you got anything sexy on you?”

Dernier breaks out into a manic grin. “ _Ai-je la permission de les faire_ boom _?"_  

“Permission granted,” Steve says graciously. “Boom the fuck outta ‘em.”

“ _Yes.”_ Dugan and Morita high-five. 

“You have the _best ideas_.” Jonesy looks ecstatic.

Steve modestly shrugs. “I do it for the fans.”

“You’re still a moron,” Barnes sniffs. “But, oh, you're a vicious little shit."

"You love it," Steve mutters, shooting him a bright grin.

Barnes sighs, resigned, and then switches tact to send Steve a sloe-eyed smirk of his own. " _Yeah_ , I do. C'mere, baby doll, show me how to make blowin' up Nazi squids look hot."

Steve obliges.

(It's quite good.)


	8. spuds with the bark on and chill

Winifred Barnes, it was known, had a brutal sense of humor. Where fleeing the violence of Tsarist Russia left fellow immigrants enthused about and striving to attain the American Dream, Winnie's experience of anti-Jewish sentiment in Russia and America bequeathed her with an enthusiastic dissatisfaction with the human condition. True to longstanding Jewish tradition, she taught her children all she knew of their history. One James Buchanan Barnes, sitting rapt at his mother's knee, found hours of entertainment in the jokes passed down from, it stood to reason, the patriarchs themselves.

 

* * *

  

Morita prods their captive with a boot and a disgusted expression. "He smells."

The HYDRA agent looks indignant. "Hail HYDRA," he says sulkily.

"Aw, come on, Sarge, tell us a joke," Dugan groans, throwing up his hands. "I can't take any more of this asshole's whining."

Bucky grins. "You boys heard of Rabinovich?"

("Is this a Brooklyn thing," Jonesy whispers to Steve.)

("Winifred Barnes thing," Steve murmurs back, wincing.)

"So it's February of 1935, and Rabinovich goes to get in line to buy milk." Barnes starts. "Out comes the manager of the store: 'There's not enough milk for everyone— the Jews must go!' He soon appears again: 'There's still not enough milk— the non-partisans must go!' Later, he returns and says to the communists, 'Only to you, comrades, the most conscientious citizens, can I tell the truth: there is no milk!' Murmurs sound within the crowd. 'Those crafty Jews!' one person says maliciously, 'They've been warm in bed for over an hour!'"

Dernier cackles. 

"Good lord,"says Falsworth.

Barnes spreads his hands modestly. "I'll be here all week, thanks for comin' out tonight, fellas. Here: Rabinovich is walking along the November demonstration in front of the grandstands. He raises his hand and shouts, 'Go forth, comrades! Go forth with vigor!' 'Rabinovich, since when do you like them so much?' Abramovich asks, standing next to him. 'Well,' says Rabinovich, 'I can't exactly say,  _Hurry up and get out_ _!'"_

"We better win this war quick," Steve mutters, "because if I have to hear another one of Winnie Barnes' jokes where we all die, I'm gonna fuckin' lose it, I swear."

"Back to business as usual," Dugan sighs, and squats down next to the captive. "Hey, boyo. Heard the one about Rabinovich and the dead squid who wouldn't talk?"

" _That_ ," and Barnes points to Dugan, "I'm sendin' that one home for Hanukkah."

"Make Winnie's fuckin' week," Steve moans.

Barnes narrows his eyes at Steve. "I know someone who's not gettin'  _anything_ for a week, buddy."

" _You're_ the crack team that keeps foiling HYDRA's plans?" the captive agent bursts out.

Barnes stares darkly at him. "You don't deserve my ma's Rabinovich jokes.'"

Steve snorts. "No one deserves your ma's Rabinovich jokes."

"You're gettin' left out of the will, pal."

 


	9. all on a toot and nowhere to go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing our long tradition of portraying history honestly and accurately, the Smithsonian Museum has moved to include the following list, dated January 1944, in the Captain America exhibit currently on display.

[in the handwriting of Sergeant James Barnes]

_Proof Agent Carter May Or May Not Be An Eldritch Being:_

_or,_

_Things Agent Carter Can Do That Are Beyond The Capacities Of Any Mortal_

 

  * Smell lies
  * Give alcohol the hangover
  * Kill a man with a stiletto heel 
    * (It has also been heavily suggested by Sergeant Barnes that Agent Carter is capable of resurrecting said man with said stiletto heel)
  * Empty Hell
  * Bite the asp first
  * Appear and disappear in bursts of fire
  * Put the fear of you into God
  * Inspire speaking in tongues just by making eye contact while putting on lipstick
  * Inspire spontaneous orgasms just by making eye contact while putting on lipstick
  * Weigh your sins
  * Borrow the brass
  * Intimidate wine back into water
  * Fight the passage of time and win
  * Cause a butterfly to flap its wings in New Mexico
  * Grip you tight and raise you from perdition
  * Put the barrel of your best guy's gun into a bullet
  * Tune the Devil's piano
  * Pet Schrödinger's cat
  * Win a staring contest with the abyss
  * Potentially win World War II singlehandedly with provided ammunition and a generous supply of tea
  * Hit the barn-side of a broad
  * Scare the bat back into Hell
  * Hang upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear
  * Inscribe you in the Book of Good Life
  * Photosynthesize fear




	10. just taking a powder, nothing to see here

"I'm just saying," Falsworth is stating loudly to a starry-eyed young soldier as they pile out of the mess hall, "Barnes might be the best sniper in the division but he's sure as hell not the best cook. Salt," he firmly tells Barnes, " _is not a spice._ " 

Barnes gives him an indignant stare. “Salt is a _fundamental aspect_  of my _cultural heritage."_ He sniffs. "See if I shoot a Nazi for you next time he’s sneakin’ up on your six, asshole.”

“Hey, stop pissing Ma off,” Dugan hisses at Falsworth. “Remember the last time? He cut cigs from our rations.”

The young soldier accompanying them blinks, wide-eyed. “Can you do that?”

“I,” Barnes informs him, “can do anything I fuckin’ want, because I’m the one haulin’ these pricks’ asses home every day. It’s a mother’s intuition,” he adds in a confidential aside.

Steve strides up looking like sunlight just _pours_  out of his all-American ass, raising a perfect eyebrow. “Why do you have mother’s intuition now, Buck?”

"Holy shit," the soldier whispers, eyes stretching wide. “That’s fucking Captain America."

“No,”says Falsworth, pointing at Barnes, “ _that's_  fucking Captain America.” Barnes looks smug.

The guy blinks again. "Can you do _that?"_

Steve flushes red. "Uh."

"If Barnes is Ma," Morita says, walking over, "does that make Cap Pa?"

 The soldier looks like someone handed him a gift that turned out to contain only packing-peanuts. "Can y—"

" _Mother knows best_ ," Barnes talks loudly over him. "My household, my rules."

"What the hell kind of shitshow household yourunning here?" Dugan wonders out loud. 

Barnes narrows his eyes. "Ma, Pa—" he waves a hand at himself, then Steve— "Shitty Kid One, Shitty Kid Two—" Falsworth and Morita— "and the dog that Shitty Kid Two found in a dumpster." He points at Dugan, who perks up with righteous fury.

"Oi, I'm definitely the fun uncle. I was in the circus, doesn't that count for anything?"

"Yeah," Morita chimes in, "and Dernier's clearly the dumpster dog, anyway."

Barnes considers that for a moment. "Y'know, I'm willin' to work with it."

"Is this... an SSR thing?" the young guy asks Dugan, tone falling between that of one witnessing a miraculous event and one realizing the puddle they just stepped in was actually urine. 

"Son, here in the Howling Commandos," Dugan says sagely, "we believe in the power of  _family._ "

" _Family means no one gets left behind,_ " carols Morita in the background.

Barnes gives him a big kiss on the top of his head. "That's why you're my favorite son."

" _Pa!"_ Falsworth whips his head to Steve, affronted. "Jim's getting preferential treatment again."

Hands raised defensively, Steve just grins, turning on his heel. "Sorry, boys— take it up with your mother."


End file.
